


The Age Of Smiles (Buggy the Clown SI)

by TheOtherAnt



Category: One Piece
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - One Piece Fusion, Gen, Horror, Original Character(s), Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 09:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20703368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherAnt/pseuds/TheOtherAnt
Summary: The Age Of Smiles is a SI story where a character ends up in a fictional setting. In this case, the setting is One Piece, and the SI finds himself in the body of Buggy the Clown a few months before Luffy is set to begin his journey. The SI grew up with a severe case of Coulrophobia and he has lived his entire life having vivid and terrifying hallucinations of Clowns that drove him a little insane. He managed to get over his fear thanks to reading about Buggy, the one Clown he never found scary, and ironically ended up a professional Clown later in life.To ensure that Nami meets Luffy, he tries to keep the story on track by acting like how he thinks Buggy did. All goes well until the SI makes a decision that accidentally causes the crew to gain a level of infamy to the World Government that changes everything. With Buggy’s former connection to Roger now exposed early, he must now struggle to keep his crew alive from pirates, marines, and Cipher Pol agents that are now determined to capture or kill them. All while a horrifying and evil presence that may actually be responsible for how he came to this world begins to make itself known.The One Piece world will never look at Clowns the same way again.





	1. The Curtain Rises

ACT 1

“When the heroes go off the stage, the Clowns come on.”  
-Heinrich Heine

A Brief Flash Forward

==

The nightmare that would destroy the Goa Kingdom and someday change the course of the world began on a hot summer day. The islands in that part of the East Blue had always had warm weather but that summer, in particular, would forever be remembered as almost scorching in intensity. The people who stepped outside were drenched with sweat before too long and even the most conservative among them wore light clothing for at least some kind of relief from the sun’s punishing rays.

Despite the oppressive heat, the Kingdom’s streets were crowded and filled with people going about their day. The country had a large population for its relatively small size and was a well-known trade hub for the East Blue. Vendors and newly arrived merchants could be seen haggling over merchandise, and workers were busy loading and unloading cargo from the ships crowding the harbor.

The survivors would later say they should have paid closer attention to the animals. That they had known instinctively what was about to happen but no one heeded the warnings out of ignorance or arrogance until it was too late.

The patient and hard-working News Coos were unusually jittery and irritable that morning. They fiddled with their papers and barely staid to get paid before leaving in a hurry with no one, not even the Coos themselves, knowing exactly why.

The city guard was beset all day with reports of pet disappearances, animal attacks, and numerous complaints about dogs barking. The Guard did the best it could to handle everything but most of their senior officers had called in “sick” after attending a party the previous night that had provided free and high-quality alcohol. Most of them were already dead.

The normally noisy and smelly fish market was quiet and subdued. The fisherman had come in early with empty nets and reports that nothing had been biting. Many worried that an errant sea king had wandered into the waters nearby.

On distant Mt. Colubo, an old mountain bandit worriedly drank with an oversized gun at hand and her eyes glancing at a clock that steadily ticked away. Surrounding her were all of her men and their wives, girlfriends, friends, and families. The entire group was heavily armed and visibly nervous. In the nearby forest, a young pirate who would soon set out to sea-tossed and turned in his sleep. His dreams filled with old memories of fire and loss.

A few of the older and more sensitive folk in the Kingdom woke up that morning with an intense feeling of wrongness that nagged at the back of their minds. It was as if there was some kind of unnamed worry or anxiety that left them wondering if they had forgotten to do something important. But beyond checking to make sure stoves were turned off and doors were locked, most ignored the feeling. The very few that didn’t ignore it, figured that they were feeling the increasing tension the Kingdom was feeling because the Prince’s condition was rumored to be getting worse.

The Monarchs of the Goa Kingdom had always been of the frail sorts from their past custom of marrying family members to keep their bloodline pure. The King and his son were usually battling some kind of sickness or ailment and usually left the ministers in charge of actually running the Kingdom. But the King was very old and the Prince had been sick for months now and many feared he would never get better.

The King was not particularly well-liked by his subjects. Most thought the King too old fashioned and selfish to be a good leader, especially in the Great Pirate Era. He had lost quite a lot of support after he cut back on supporting the Kingdom’s navy with the opening of a nearby Marine Naval base. Which led to higher prices on everything imported thanks to the Marines requiring everyone to pay large and unpopular fees to use the World Government’s escort service. Then to everyone’s displeasure, the King had then used most of the freed-up funds to beautify his castle.

While the Prince was more than a bit spoiled and spent far too much money on lavish parties, he at least seemed to be aware of how dangerous and chaotic the world had truly become since Roger’s death. The Prince had long argued with his father about the need for a strong navy and the Kingdom had been thankful he was going to be taking over soon. But with his health now in question, everyone had begun to worry about a possible civil war if the Prince died.

For the King and Prince had no more living relatives and there was no one left with any real claim to the throne. Now with both monarchs' health steadily becoming worse, people were starting to talk about the Kingdom’s future behind closed doors. The various saloons and bars of the Kingdom were often full of patrons who talked in hushed tones as if fearful of being overheard. Merchant stalls had an unusually large number of weapons and firearms displayed and food prices were starting to go up as people started buying extra food in bulk. The atmosphere in the Kingdom had become tense and more than a little paranoid.

Still, despite the anxiety and sweltering heat, there was, in fact, one man in the streets that day that was in high spirits. Outlook the Third was heading back home with a small spring in his step. Everyone he passed was greeted with a happy wave and a cheery smile. Those that knew him personally would have been shocked at how carefree he seemed as he twirled his small mustache while practically skipping down the road.

Outlook had a very good reason to be happy that day. Unknown to all but the minsters and a few of the royal guard, his adopted son Stelly had been secretly meeting with the King every day for the last few weeks to discuss politics and statecraft as befitting someone of his lineage. The King had been impressed enough with him that he had inquired about his family line to Outlook, which he gladly provided full of pride. While the rest of the Kingdom worried and fretted, he and his wife were confident that Stelly would not have any trouble taking things over when the Prince died and the King followed soon after.

Outlook couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so excited. Finally, after so much preparation and sacrifice, everything was going according to plan. Outlook could picture it all so clearly in his mind. Stelly would be declared the King’s official heir, they would move into the Castle to help support Stelly in overseeing things as he slowly took over the King’s duties, and his friends the Nanotokanettes would be invited to begin the marriage negotiations between Stelly and their daughter.

He had been out all day making preparations for Stelly’s birthday party tomorrow. He and his wife had spared no expense and they were planning to use the party to let it slip to a few important people just how close Stelly was to the King. It would be a chance to start making alliances with the most important people in the Kingdom and would be essential in helping to secure Stelly’s rule. But Outlook was also hoping that the party would be a chance to get his wife to finally relax and enjoy herself a little.

Outlook took another look into his bag to make sure the necklace he had bought her was still there. His wife had always liked jewelry and Outlook knew that she would love it when he gave it to her at the party tomorrow. He thought about giving it to her as soon as he got home but he knew that she was probably too stressed out with planning the party to truly enjoy it and he wanted to see her happy if only for a moment. For despite how well Stelly got along with the King and how close they were to their plan reaching fruition, his wife had grown increasingly paranoid and nervous.

She never smiled, never relaxed, and her every waking moment was spent fretting about Stelly or himself. Stelly’s appearance and manner of speaking were gone over with a fine-toothed comb every morning and she had spent a small fortune paying informants to gain information on potential enemies despite all the reports saying that there was no one else who was a threat to their plan. Even at night when they were in bed together, she constantly worried about the future.

Outlook would do his best to soothe and comfort her but more often then naught she would lay awake in bed unable to fall asleep. Something that had been more pronounced recently with the strange nightmares she had been having.

She had not always been like this. There was once a time when she always had a cheerful smile on her face that seemed to shine like the sun. Outlook had fallen in love with that smile. But she hadn’t smiled like that in years and Outlook knew the reason why.

They never talked about it out loud but the Boy was never far from her mind.

For a brief moment, Outlook’s good mood soured as pictures of the Boy’s birth and his first innocent smile so very much like his mother rose up in his mind. His eyes briefly began to water as he thought again about the sheer waste and stupidity of it all. If only they had been able to convince him to see reason and stop his foolish actions, then he wouldn’t have…Outlook shook his head and with a force of will banished the thoughts to the back of his mind. The past was the past, and he needed to be strong and look toward the future. For his wife and Stelly’s sake.

Now feeling a bit more subdued, Outlook walked at a slightly slower pace. The sun was just beginning to set and he let out a content sigh along with everyone else as the temperature started to finally go down. He stared at the setting sun a little, finding it comforting.

Outlook gradually began to hear angry shouting as he walked and turned a corner to see a small crowd had gathered. They were all laughing and jeering at something, so he stood up on his toes to get a better view. He spied the street ahead absolutely littered with cabbages of all things from two carts that had crashed together. The two big and burly owners were loudly insulting each other’s mothers while throwing cabbages at each other.

A pair of town guards were trying to separate and calm them down. As he watched one of the guards was hit in the head by errantly thrown cabbage that exploded into leaves as he was knocked back. Which caused the crowd to hoot and laugh.

Looking at the two fools and the scared guard checking on his disoriented colleague, Outlook became aware of a curious buzzing in the back of his head. It created a kind of tingling sensation across his skin that was more than a little odd and uncomfortable. He shook his head as he felt a small migraine coming on and sighed as he looked at the crowd again. Impatient to get home, and more than a little irritated at the idiotic gawkers and useless guards he decided to make a point of informing Stelly on reforming their number while backtracking to duck into a small side street.

Outlook’s head began to feel a bit better as he got away from the crowd, and he enjoyed the relative quiet. The only noise was the slight echo of his footsteps as he walked. He wasn’t sure why his head had hurt so suddenly but he figured he had probably been a little stressed and he soon forgot about it.

The twilight hour had painted the sky into a brilliant red and orange landscape. The shadows were slowly growing larger and darker as the sun went down. He had only been walking for a few minutes when a strange sight up ahead caught his eye.

Standing at the end of the road was a Clown.

The Clown was overdressed for the warm weather, wearing a deep red overcoat with white lace sleeves at the cuffs and black pants that had a poufy green undershirt tucked in. Pointed red shoes with tiny white smiles decorated his feet. An oversized red lump of a nose sat in the center of a face that had been painted stark white with the area around his eyes painted blue. Bright red lipstick had been carefully plied over the lips and long lines of it stretched from the corners of the mouth to the ears giving an impression of an exaggerated smile. He was bald except for two large bunches of white hair that jutted out behind his ears, which were pointed and sharp.

The Clown stood unmoving and still as a statue until he spotted Outlook walking toward him and a dopey grin split his face. He exaggeratedly waved at Outlook with one arm holding up another. Then he began to pump his arms and proceeded to do a little jig. He shook back and forth, kicked his legs and danced while spinning in place.

A look of disgust went over Outlook’s face as he shook his head at the old dancing fool. He had always been a serious individual even as a child and had never understood the point of Clowns. He decided that he really should mention to Stelly to think about making a few basic decency laws. It was unseemly for people to dress and act like that.

Seeing the look of disapproval on Outlook’s face, the Clown began to pull out a wide variety of junk as Outlook got closer. He gave him another grin and then began to juggle in an obvious attempt to get some kind of donation. Outlook considered the very act of charity a needless and disruptive act as it encouraged lazy people from getting a job, but he still found himself stopping to watch. For even, he had to admit that the Clown’s act was slightly impressive.

He had seen jugglers in the past juggle three or five balls or occasionally pins but the Clown was effortlessly juggling an oversized bowling pin messily covered in red paint, a large decorated knife, a tiny obviously fake skull that had too many teeth, an oversized sledgehammer, a cannonball with a smile painted on it, an open bear trap, and an odd doll with no issue or hesitation. He was also not tossing them carefully or slowly, but truly throwing them high up in the air and moving them so fast that for a moment it almost looked like he had started juggling his own hands.

Seeing Outlook was impressed, the Clown began to up the ante by starting to dance again while he was still juggling. He bounced the cannonball on his foot, spun the sledgehammer around his neck, and balanced the knife on his chin. Over and over again, the Clown moved to start to go even faster and Outlook took a step back wary of the Clown losing control. But instead the Clown did a flip and somehow ended up catching everything in one hand with everything balanced and twirling. After the Clown was finished, he took a large bow.

On any other day, Outlook admitted he might be persuaded to give the Clown a small reward for managing to impress someone of his stature. But he was in a hurry and he did not have any money left over from buying everything he needed for Stelly’s party. So Outlook pointedly ignored the Clown and moved to the side of the road to pass him by.

“Say, would you like to hear a joke?” the Clown suddenly asked in a singsong manner taking a step in front of him to Outlook’s affronted face. The Clown had dared to step in front of him! Did he not know who he was? An outraged Outlook turned to give the Clown a piece of his mind for getting in his way but stopped at the odd look the Clown was giving him.

It was not a look of jealousy, of awe, or even of annoyance as he expected. It was almost like a look of longing or desire. The Clown reminded Outlook like a hungry dog looking at a piece of meat that was just about to drop.

It was not just the look that was disconcerting. It was the Clown’s eyes; there was something wrong with them. They were bulging just a bit too much and Outlook realized that he had never seen the Clown blink even once. What was worse was the color. Instead of brown or blue, they were a pulsating and unnatural shade of orange that seemed vulgar somehow. Like he was looking into something disgusting and disquieting that made him uncomfortable.

Which was when the Clown gave Outlook a big and full smile that stretched impossibly wide and revealed his teeth. All four rows of sharpened and black teeth that looked too big to fully fit in his jaw. They were so shiny that Outlook could see his own darkened reflection in them.

Outlook lost himself for a little while looking at the Clown. He stared for what seemed like only a few moments but could have been several minutes for all he knew. Finally, he found his senses and coughed awkwardly. He backed up slowly as the Clown continued to smile and made no move to stop him or speak.

Outlook knew something was wrong with the smiling man in front of him. A not insignificant part of Outlook wanted to just turn around and run as fast as he could. To put as much distance between the Clown and his damnable smiling face as he could. Were he a man with a normal upbringing, he would have already started running.

But Outlook the Third was a noble of High Town. He was a man who had never experienced true hardship or danger from a world that was especially full of both. He was quite simply too naïve and insulated from the reality of the world he lived in to listen to his instincts that were all but screaming at him to drop everything and run.

So instead of panicking Outlook took a deep breathe and put a haughty sneer on his face. He told himself he was just blowing things out of proportion and no man of his bloodline should run away like some kind of frightened animal with its tail between its legs. The Clown was obviously related to one of those disgusting fish-men degenerates and that explained the strange teeth.

Clowns were not dangerous and Outlook told himself that he was in the middle of the Goa Kingdom and no pirate or criminal would have dared to attack them with the many guards in the city and the marine naval base being so close by. So Outlook swallowed his feelings down and forced himself to project confidence. He walked straight past him with his head held up high.

He made it just three steps before something sharp and pointed plunged into his right arm just above the elbow. It happened so quickly and was so unexpected that it did not fully register in Outlook’s mind. It was not until the second slash that tore off part of his ear a heartbeat later that he fully felt the sharp and biting pain and reacted accordingly.

He stumbled and gasped in pain as he fell over onto his knees. His hands went to his ear and he was shocked to pull them back and discover that he was bleeding. He turned around panicked just in time to see the Clown as it smashed the cannonball into his face. Outlook saw stars as he fell back on to the ground. Dazed, he laid unmoving, as a blurry and spinning image of the Clown appeared looking down at him.

Outlook felt something take ahold of him and found himself slowly dragged backwards along the ground. He could hear whistling as he was pushed up against a wall and he slumped down in confusion and still in quite a bit of pain. His ear and arm were throbbing and the world was just a vague haze. He was certain his nose was broken and he was still slightly confused about what had happened. He looked down and saw that his arm was covered in blood and he felt himself growing nauseous. He turned his head to vomit in response. After he cleared his stomach, he felt the world slowly come back into focus.

He froze as he found the Clown staring at him face-to-face. His fat red nose, which up close looked like some kind of misshapen tumor, was pushed against his own. Outlook vaguely wondered what was happening but he dared not move still somewhat in shock when the Clown spoke.

“Would you like to hear a joke?”

“Please, I have money you don..,” Outlook started to say before the Clown’s face suddenly jerked his head down and bit down hard on Outlook’s shoulder. Outlook shrieked and tried to fight him off but his panicked blows were ignored, as the Clown’s head twisted back and forth like a dog. Outlook screamed as the Clown tore a chunk of flesh from his shoulder.

Outlook wailed and bucked trying to stand up but the Clown held him down with a vise-like grip. Try as he might, Outlook’s efforts did not affect the Clown who simply waited not reacting. Outlook began to scream and yell for help. He shouted and hollered for someone, anyone to come to his aid. Over and over he desperately yelled at the top of his lungs until he was red in the face but he heard and saw no one. The heat and pain of his shoulder were almost blinding to Outlook but he held his shoulder the best he could with his damaged arm while still calling for help.

There was so much blood and everything hurt so badly he couldn’t help but stop to catch his breath teary-eyed. He looked back and forth again for help but the entire street was deserted. Where was everyone? Outlook couldn’t believe no one had heard his cries for help, surely somehow had to be nearby. He continued to yell for some time but slowly and very gradually he stopped his struggling and fell silent, as he realized no one was coming.

He was completely alone.

The Clown whistled to get his attention and Outlook fearfully looked up at the Clown smiling again with his mouth now stained with blood. The Clown very deliberately took his time to chew with his mouth open as Outlook could only stare as the blood leaked from his mouth. The Clown swallowed and then grabbed Outlook by the shoulders to effortlessly lift him until he was eye to eye. Outlook realized that he might not survive the next few minutes and he thought of his wife, Stelly, and especially the Boy. He did not want to die.

“Would you like to hear a joke?” the Clown asked again to an incredulous and still tearful Outlook.

Outlook forced himself to close his eyes while trying to ignore the sticky feeling of blood all over him and the almost blinding pain he was feeling. “Yes….” Outlook stammered gritting his teeth and at a loss as to what to do.

“I would like to hear a joke.”

The Clown dropped him into a crumpled heap and Outlook groaned as the Clown jumped back from Outlook now animated and excited as it sat down on the ground. “Now stop me if you’ve heard this one,” The Clown said. “There once was an old married couple that for years had spent their whole lives and careers designing and building a very special cannon. You see this cannon was a true work of art. It was huge and completely solid gold, covered in ornate silver designs, and the wooden wheels were made of Adam wood.”

Then the Clown did something that caused Outlook’s eyes to bug out in disgust and he nearly threw up again. Blood had begun to seep from the Clown’s eyes, nose, and mouth. It flowed out in great gushes of bright and dark liquid until it floated in front of the Clown and impossibly twisted into the shape of a miniature cannon.

“Unfortunetly the cannon was beset with numerous setbacks and there came a time when the couple despaired that they would never finish it. But they refused to give up,” the Clown suddenly shouted pumping his arm in appreciation. “They threw themselves into their work and finally after years of hard work they had finally finished it.”

The blood had twisted into a new shape showing a smiling and faceless couple hugging in celebration behind the cannon, which had turned to point at Outlook who was still shocked at the blood. Was this really happening?

“So they decided to test it,” the Clown loudly exclaimed with a savage grin. “With much fanfare, they loaded it up and fired.”

The cannon made of blood erupted and splashed against Outlook’s face with enough force that he banged his head against the wall. He gagged and coughed up the blood that had gotten up his nose. The smell of copper was overpowering and Outlook’s eyes were teary and blurred. The Clown waited until Outlook was finished throwing up again before he kept talking.

“Now after they were done with the test firing, the man looked to his wife and said, “Wow honey, I never thought our son would go that far.” “Yeah”, the wife said. “Our cannon is pretty amazing. Let's go get our daughter.”

For a moment, The Clown said nothing and just stared at Outlook’s bloodstained and trembling face before he began to just howl with laughter. Outlook could only look on appalled as the Clown fell on his back. He rolled along the street laughing with unholy glee and literally kicked his legs up into the air away from his body.

Outlook could not believe his eyes. What he was seeing was simply impossible. The Clown’s legs were floating in mid-air in front of him and as he watched they started to dance. On and on the Clown laughed with his legs dancing in front of him, far past the time where Outlook was sure he should have had to stop to take a breath.

The Clown eventually stopped chuckling to look at Outlook with a small frown. The legs stopped dancing and a moment later the Clown’s torso separated from its body. The top half of the Clown floated over to look at Outlook in the face, which caused Outlook to freeze in fear.

“You aren’t smiling,” the Clown stated with disapproval while shaking his finger in front of him. With that, the Clown let loose a powerful punch to Outlook’s wounded shoulder, which caused Outlook to let out a yelp of pain. Then as if by magic a large knife appeared in the Clown’s hand.

“Now let's see that pretty smile or I’m going to cut off your nose and make you eat it,” the Clown threatened, tapping Outlook’s nose with the knife.

It was incredibly difficult but Outlook was somehow able to put a pained and grim smile onto his face. A look of surprise came onto the Clown as it stared at Outlook’s face. The Clown put the knife away and gently touched Outlook’s lips with a gloved finger. It slowly traced Outlook’s smile in an almost intimate manner and for a moment Outlook feared that the Clown was going to do something unspeakable.

It was in that moment of pure fear and revulsion that for just a split second the Clown’s face changed into something else. Something that sent a terrible chill through Outlook’s spine and spoke to a primal part of his mind. In the years to come staring at his scars in the mirror Outlook would often wonder if he had imagined it. That he had merely hallucinated it from the pain, fear, and blood loss.

But at that moment, Outlook the Third’s eyes widened in shock with his face going white. He forgot the pain he was in, forgot his family, and smiled as wide as he could. So forcefully that he would later learn he had strained the muscles in his face. The Clown audibly gasped and then giggled like a child at the sight.

“Well, would you look at that! There is nothing more beautiful than a smile that has struggled on through the tears,” the Clown said his face filled with wonder as he cupped Outlook’s face. “Hold that pose for a sec, would you dear.”

With that, the Clown stepped back from a still blood covered and stunned Outlook to pull out a snail which he held up and with an audible click took a picture. He then got down on his knees in front of Outlook who made sure to keep smiling and took out some kind of first aid kit. He took out a bottle and poured it into a rag before holding it up to Outlook’s face.

“Breathe this in for the pain,” the Clown commanded while handing it over.

Outlook hesitated but did as he was told and took a deep breath from the rag. He smelled a chemical smell mixed in with what could have been peppermint. The throbbing in his body slowly lessened and Outlook took several more deep breaths before taking a hold of it himself.

The Clown tore off Outlook’s shirt and threw it away before he could protest and started dressing his wounds. Outlook dared not move and made sure to smile whenever the Clown looked at him. After he was finished dressing his wounds and made sure the bandages were secure, the Clown produced a large bottle of rum and took a big gulp before offering one to Outlook who could only fearfully shake his head. The Clown shrugged his shoulders and took another drink before putting it down and gently helped Outlook stand up.

He led an unresisting and trembling Outlook down the street until they stopped to where the Clown had first danced his little jig only a few minutes ago. Seeing Outlook’s fallen hat, the Clown picked it up and dusted it off while inspecting it. Satisfied at something, the Clown put the hat on his head and turned to look at Outlook. A strange part of Outlook’s mind vaguely noted that it seemed to fit him perfectly.

“Now, as a reward for such a beautiful smile I have decided that if you can make it to High Town, I won’t mutilate or even eat your wife and adopted son.”

Outlook immediately dropped his smile and turned to the Clown in shock and horror. “What!?”

“Yeah, I don’t think your wife was ever named by Goda but what was that little shit with the weird nose called?” the Clown wondered out loud touching his chin and smearing the blood.

“It’s on the tip of my tongue. Smelly, Steddy, Sterry, or was it Kelly? I guess it doesn’t matter. Anyway, you heard me true. If you can make it to the walls of High Town, I won’t do anything to them. But if you fail, well I’m first going to take a knife and start peeling all the flesh from their left arms.”

The Clown then pulled out the knife he had been juggling and to Outlook’s shock, he started to cut through his own coat and arm. Outlook forced himself to look away but he could hear the sounds of cutting and hacking as the Clown kept talking in an almost bored tone.

“After I flay their left arms, I’m going to cut a small hole in their chest right above the stomach. Then I’m going to take a rat and scare it with fire to so it is forced to enter their bodies through the hole I made. Then I’m going to remove their teeth one by one and make them swallow them all. Then I will probably just shoot them if they haven’t died by then as I have a very tight schedule with the number of people I have to see to personally today.”

“Why?” Outlook finally asked still not daring to look at the Clown directly. “Why are you doing this?”

“What? You want to know why?” the Clown said behind him. Outlook heard him walk up and froze as the Clown put his arm around Outlook’s neck like they were old pals. Which caused Outlook to tremble at his sheer helplessness and fear of what he was going to do when the Clown spoke again.

“Because you think children are trash because of how much money they have. Because you laughed as people burned to death. Because I just like to hurt people. Because God is a cruel little shit who cares as much about you as you do about a tick on a dog’s ass. Because your face annoys me and makes me want to stab it. Because I want to kiss your skin until it becomes like putty in my mouth and I can slurp it through a straw. Because you and this world aren’t real and this place is simply my fevered nightmare. Because the voices in my head won’t shut the hell up and let me sleep. Because I like your hat and Trips has been bitching at me that I should get a new one.”

The Clown then put his mouth right next to Outlook’s ear and whispered gently. “But honestly, because I think it will be fucking hilarious.”

The Clown then let him go and wandered away mumbling to himself. Outlook trembled and gazed at the distant Walls of High Town. The tall and thick walls had never been broken in the kingdom’s long history and they surrounded High Town. They had two private and secure water sources and enough supplies to last a several months siege. Besides the royal army, which included 10, 000 well-trained men stationed at guard stations throughout the city, an honor guard of 1,000 men trained by high ranked retired marines tutors patrolled the walls. The Marine naval base nearby could send out reinforcements in only a few hours and spread out a blockade that would leave any Pirate that dared to attack trapped with nowhere to escape.

There was no possible way the maniac could get anywhere near his family and the Clown would almost certainly be killed or captured before too long. He knew he should simply nod along to whatever the maniac was saying until he could get away to get help.

Yet Outlook remembered the look in the Clowns eyes and the words he had spoken. He remembered how the Clown’s legs danced in the air, the smile with black and sharp teeth, and the way the Clown’s face had changed. The Clown was confident and calm about his threats. There was no doubt in the Clown’s head that he could get past the Kingdom’s defenses to get to his family.

So Outlook decided to treat it as the truth. Just in case he was wrong. The walls weren’t that far and he was wearing sensible shoes since he had expected to do a lot of walking today. The rag he had breathed in had made the pain he was feeling bearable and he wasn’t bleeding any more. Should he take the fastest route? That might be what the Clown was expecting.

“How long do I have?” Outlook asked still looking carefully away.

“There is no time limit to reach the walls specifically but I think you’ll find that things will get harder and harder the longer you take, so I suggest you don’t take too long,” the Clown quipped.

“I won’t specifically go after you but a few of my crew have memorized your face. They have orders to only kill certain people but they have a tendency to be quite creative in how they interpret my orders and they aren’t as nice as I am. You would also be quite shocked at what a person can survive in this world no matter how much they wish they didn’t.”

Crew? Outlook faltered back a step and his mind nearly boggled with the sheer horror of more beings like the Clown. An image of a smiling horde rushing at him nearly made him faint. Outlook’s heart began to beat so hard and fast he feared it would break out of his chest and he took short and rabid breaths with his eyes closed. He found himself reminded of that terrible night so many years ago. The same panic and fear. Most of all he remembered the sound of his wife’s horrible wailing next to him when she realized what had happened.

His wife.

He remembered her shy smile on their Wedding day and her look of wonder when she held the Boy for the first time. Thinking of his wife covered in blood and smiling in pain, an unnatural calmness began to come over Outlook. The fear was still there, but the trembling stopped, as a look of determination appeared on Outlook the Third’s face.

He shook his head and started to stretch his legs and arms. He bent down to touch his toes and took some deep breathes. He had played quite a bit of baseball in his youth and he knew how important it was to limber up. He swore to himself that he would reach the walls or die trying.

“That’s the spirit!” the Clown encouraged nearby. Outlook again looked at the Clown who had pulled out a new smaller snail. It had a painted face and was currently in the process of chewing through a large strawberry. The Clown gave it a big sloppy kiss leaving it covered in blood, which mixed with the juice from the Snail’s mouth. The Clown patted its head before turning back to Outlook.

“Wait for my signal,” the Clown said.

Outlook nodded and took a ready stance. He closed his eyes trying to not focus on his shoulder. He thought of his wife and wondered if he would see the Boy again before the day was done.

“Be sure to enjoy the show and don’t forget to smile,” the Clown said as he pushed a small button on the snail. “Now go get them champ!”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_B0CyOAO8y0

The eyes on the Snail rolled into the back of its little stalks and it started to play unfamiliar music. Outlook heard the song as it was picked up further out into the city until the music was playing everywhere from unseen snails.

Outlook took off at a slightly light jog. He wanted more than anything to sprint as fast as he could but he was not a young man anymore and he knew he would exhaust himself before too long if he went too fast. So he had to pace himself until he was near the home stretch. Whatever he had breathed from the Clown’s rag was helping him numb the pain in his limbs.

A few people stared at him with concerned or confused faces. Several looked behind him to see what was chasing him as he ran, but everyone else was still distracted by the music playing to look at him. Outlook looked around as he ran but he did not see any snails anywhere and he was unsure where it was coming from.

A high piercing shriek startled Outlook and he nearly tripped but righted himself just in time. He and everyone else had turned their heads toward where they had heard the sound. It sounded like it was close by. A moment later a woman started to scream and there were panicked shouts for guards as multiple gunshots rang into the air.

Outlook turned back to the path ahead of him and kept jogging past now anxious citizens. In the distance, he spotted a heavy column of pink smoke and a small group of guardsmen hurried toward it. He briefly thought about calling for them when he spotted the shadow of movement on the roof above them.

The Clown was tiny, the size of a child really and frankly looked ridiculous instead of scary. It wore a mask depicting a crying face and had on a small party hat with a flower decorating it. It had oversized sleeves that trailed behind as it trotted along with surprising agility over the rooftops and dropped gently behind the guardsman before the sleeves dropped to reveal oversized claws. Which was when it moved and in a flash one guardsman had lost a leg and another had a cut open belly.

Not even ten minutes ago the sight would have frozen him with shock but now Outlook instead turned to take another route. He ran for what seemed like only two streets before the pungent smell of some type of pork filled the air. He decided to take another detour to go around it.

There was screaming and cries for help now. He passed one woman begging prostrate over someone bleeding before a smiling figure shot her. His legs pumped and he surged forward a little faster when he heard someone giggle behind him. Too terrified to look.

He spotted one of them sitting splayed out in the street near the corner. She was a woman based on the figure, wearing tights and a strange coat with tails. Before Outlook’s horrified gaze, the Clown tightly gripped a decapitated head and was carefully putting makeup on it. Then looking up she caught Outlook staring and waved smiling.

Outlook the Third ran and ran. Desperate fear pushing him forward, his mind not accepting what he was seeing. There was no more doubt in his head. He would reach those walls or die trying.

The panic in the air was raw and palpable. The streets were now full of people running for the walls of High Town just like him. Outlook was shoved and pushed as he struggled to stay upright. Where were the guards and the army? They couldn’t have killed them all. Could they?

He never saw what took the man ahead of him. One moment he was running and the next he was just gone. Outlook looked up just in time to see the man trying to scream before he was pulled up and away into the sky. Outlook was pushed down from behind while gawking and was nearly trampled to death as he rolled out of the way. He paused taking some time to catch his breath and think things over. He decided to angle toward the docks, as it should be deserted and he was worried crowds would attract them.

He had just made it to the fish market when the first explosions started to go off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original idea was based on seeing Oda’s original story idea/sketch of Buggy where he was designed as a more scary and competent Clown that even Zoro of all people was willing to follow. As well as getting a Word of Goda that Buggy has the potential to be one of the strongest in the world if he wasn’t so lazy and properly trained himself. I was curious what would happen to the story if that scary/competent version of him came to be so thought of a SI that would fit the bill. This is mostly practice to get better at writing and I don't have a beta so please forgive any roughness. I will try to update at least once a month and will probably take things slow. I have three chapters right now that I am working on that I will put up in the next week or so after I edit them a bit. There will also be a very subtle crossover with another horror story that will explain how the SI came to this world.


	2. Meet Daffy Dave

  


_It is no accident that the photographer becomes a photographer any more than the lion tamer becomes a lion tamer._

-Dorothea Lange

* * *

  
You know its kind of funny to think about now, but when I was a kid I actually used to be afraid of Clowns.

That isn’t really that unusual of a thing of course. Most people find Clowns at least a little scary or creepy, especially with so many horror movies and media involving Clowns. But saying I was afraid of Clowns wasn’t doing my fear justice. I wasn’t afraid of Clowns, no I was flat fucking terrified of them to the point I had full-blown Coulrophobia as a child. That is the medical term for a pathological fear of Clowns to the point that it interferes with your daily life, and it did interfere with mine.

I never really did figure out where my fear came from as I almost certainly never saw a scary Clown during my childhood. My mother and the Bastard were always very, very, strict about what I was allowed to watch or see when I was little. They were the type to never let me watch certain kid cartoons or even football games because they were too violent and led to kids hurting themselves. So they were quite surprised when I freaked out at a friend’s birthday party when a Clown showed up.

I have no memory of it happening to be honest. From my perspective, I went to the party and started to eat some cake. Two seconds later I’m waking up in the hospital disoriented and staring at my mother’s worried face.

I was fine and having fun until the birthday Clown my friend’s mom had hired showed up and started his set talking in a silly voice. All the children laughed and played except for me. I just stopped and stared at him, not making a single sound. It wasn’t until the Clown got closer that I started to just scream bloody murder. My mother embarrassed tried to calm me down but I still kept screaming and that embarrassment turned to shock when I suddenly collapsed.

I ended up spending a week in the hospital because I had a heart attack. I’m not even exaggerating; I had a tiny heart attack because my little heart was flooded with so much adrenaline from overstimulation of my fight or flight system. I was almost scared to death by a Clown when I was barely six years old. From then on the sight of a Clown, any Clown terrified me like nothing ever has before or since.

Needless to say, my parents made sure quite a few things in my life changed after that hospital visit. I stopped going to birthday parties for one thing and the Bastard enrolled me in a sort of boy scouts amateur military thing. My mom wanted me to go to a therapist but the Bastard always scoffed at the concept of therapy. They had one of their rare fights over it and my mom surprised the Bastard with how much she fought over it in worry over me but in the end, she conceded to his wishes.

I thought the scout stuff was pretty boring and to this day I hate the entire concept of camping. I’d rather be reading a book or playing a videogame instead of sleeping on the cold hard ground with nothing better to do than listen to bears shitting in the woods. But as much as I hated it, I didn’t want to disappoint the Bastard so I kept at it. I even forced myself to not react to the Clown he took me to just to prove to my mom that I was over it. So I pretended that everything was fine and hid my fear, which wasn’t too hard at the start at least.

Even though I started to always be late to school I was still a good student who got A’s in everything so my teacher didn’t question me on anything. I was quiet and hardworking in class, so she never told my parents about my tardiness and thus they never found out I was always late because I would take long detours just so I could avoid looking at the statue of Ronald at our local McDonalds. Not even the sweet allure of chicken nuggets could tempt my younger self to go near that red-haired bastard.

For the next few years, things were generally okay and I never really thought about Clowns all that much. As long as I was careful to avoid McDonalds and birthday parties, there was pretty much zero chance I would ever run into a Clown in my daily life besides maybe Halloween and I always took quite a few precautions that day. 

I had a pretty good life all things considered but unfortunately, the universe has a way of screwing with you if you live long enough. Whether it’s a death in the family, a tragic accident, getting sick, or just having a shitting life in general, there is always something that happens.

I did not always call my father the Bastard. There was a time when I loved and appreciated him. He was a little strict at times but I was proud to have him as a father and I wanted to join the military to be just like him someday. But he wasn’t the man I thought he was.

It came out that he was involved in something rather disgusting and terrible involving children. He did not partake in anything or at least nothing that could be proven but he protected the people that were involved and I’ll spare you the details but they got up to some pretty sick shit. My mother and I for the longest time just absolutely refused to believe it, my country’s military doesn’t exactly have a glowing track record in terms of scandals and this was before all those child molestation scandals with the church had come out. The thoughts of a large ring of people so far up in the government involved in something like that was just unbelievable to the public at the time. So my mother and I believed the Bastard when he swore up and down he was not involved. Then the cops and prosecutors brought out the videos and photographs, which showed pretty blatantly that he knew something was going on.

I didn’t see any of those videos or pictures until much, much, later when I looked through all his stuff after I murdered him, but it wasn’t really hard to learn exactly what they showed thanks to all the news stories. It turned into this huge scandal when it was revealed just how many people in the military and the government were involved. The Bastard took a plea deal to act as a witness to avoid spending the rest of his life in prison and well he never really tried to talk with me again. Maybe it was out of shame or guilt at what he had done but I eventually stopped caring or trying to talk with him. Still, hearing all that talk of duty and proudly serving the country and knowing that he knew what was happening for _years_ and chose to do nothing about it affected me more than a little. 

It was bad for me but it was even worse for my mother. She had known the Bastard most of her life and a part of her still loved him despite all the lies and the knowledge of what he had done. She ultimately couldn’t handle the reporters and the judgmental looks, so she moved us to a small town where no one knew who we were. I think she hoped that it would be a fresh start for both of us.

That is when I first started to see Clowns that weren’t there. 

It started small at first. I started to notice a few people were randomly starting to wear bright and colorful clothing that was just so out of place. This sheriff’s deputy that always managed traffic after church started to wear a bright and garish yellow uniform that made him look like a demented big bird. There was this very old and dignified rich lady who used to help run some community events for the town and one day she started wearing a tutu and giant purple Afro. They didn’t act any different or suspicious or anything. They were just people going about their day except they were just dressed weird and I thought it was just funny at first. I mean wouldn’t you laugh?

But things started to get more than a little creepy as time went on. More and more people started to show up wearing white face paint and then they all started acting weird. This one time a group of people at my mother’s church suddenly got out of the pews during mass and randomly broke out into this really big song and dance number.

But it wasn’t like something neat like a flash mob or a well-rehearsed show. Everyone dancing and singing were crying or moaning while they did it. It didn’t last that long, only a few minutes, but they all sat back down with no one commenting on it. Meanwhile, I was just flabbergasted and more than a little freaked out. I asked my mom and a few other kids at Sunday school about it but they thought I was playing a game.

I finally decided to keep it to myself after I started to get weird looks from people when I stared at them. I was already a new kid in a small town so I tried my damndest to not bring attention to myself or emote with mixed success when things got a little nastier as people starting hurting each other.

I caught my neighbor’s dog biting her leg. Not in a cute way but viciously mauling her leg so badly that I screamed and the neighbor came out convinced another dog had mauled her pet. I lied about a stray I saw and the neighbor believed me. 

Every few weeks, some of the people weirdly dressed like Clowns would start to hurt and wail on each other. For example, two people at a bus stop would suddenly stand up, face each other, and then take turns viciously head-butting each other. Then they would sit back down as if nothing had ever happened with their clothes covered in blood.

I didn’t tell my mom because I didn’t want to burden her with even more crap to deal with. She didn’t know that I knew she still cried at night or that she was taking medication for depression and she had recently been diagnosed with Lupus. I didn’t know it at the time but she was also dealing with a big custody battle with the Bastard’s bitch of a mother who both she and the Bastard had hated. I don’t think there was any real chance of her losing custody of me but the stress wasn’t helping her condition.

So I tried to just deal with things on my own. Things were creepy and weird but the events didn’t happen that often and my kid logic thought if I ignored it for long enough, eventually the Clowns would just go away. But of course, that was a giant mistake in hindsight. Because you see the more time went on, the more bizarre and scary things got. 

I started to hear creepy kaleidoscope music and laughter everywhere. I’d be putting out the trash and nearly have a full-blown panic attack from someone shrilly laughing right into my ear. I woke up one day and found that everything green was suddenly orange instead and it took almost a month before everything changed back. 

Pictures and posters of Clowns started to show up more and more all around me. On-street corners, in magazines, and I even started to notice the clouds in the sky were starting to look like them. People dressed like Clowns started to follow me and I would catch them peeking at me from around street corners or the roofs of buildings.

I hated my new teacher with a passion because she was always sporting a smile that was just a little too big to be completely normal. I became convinced, truly 100% convinced, that my teacher was secretly a Clown in disguise and the school was trying to poison me when I got free lunch. So, I stopped eating lunch at school.

I started having nightmares from the paranoia and the stress. When I say nightmares, I mean the really bad ones, the kind that I would wish only on my worst enemy. Scenes of Clowns laughing while they murdered, maimed, and ate people that left me waking up covered in a panicked sweat and left me a vegetarian for years.

Eventually, I just stopped trying to sleep altogether. I’d stay up with the lights on until I finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. My teacher reported on how I kept falling asleep in class and my grades started to suffer.

My mom did eventually notice this fear despite my best attempts to hide it. Though it was rather obvious, as I got more than a little squirrely as time went on. She finally cornered me and sat me down one day to make me tell her what was wrong. I resisted but with enough prodding, I told her everything. I can still vividly remember this terrible look of shock and guilt on my mother’s face when she truly realized how scared I was and how it was affecting me as she hugged me tightly.

She took me to go see a doctor and I was diagnosed with both an anxiety disorder and being on the schizophrenia spectrum, which was both good and bad. I was glad to be getting help but the medication process was a special kind of hell. There were more side effects to antipsychotics back then and the doctor kept changing my stuff frequently to find the right dose for me. My mom saw the side effects and hated them along with me but she wanted me to get better and she used to have to force me to take them. She later admitted to me years later that she still felt guilty about it.

While the meds sucked, my therapist was pretty great. I was really scared of him at first since he was this giant former marine with biceps the size of my little body but he had the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen. His office always had this earthly aroma and he was really easy to talk to. All we did for the first few weeks was play games and make small talk and it felt nice to finally have someone to talk to about the stuff I was seeing with no judgment. If I’m being honest with myself, I was probably also missing the Bastard more than I wanted to admit.

We started to work on how to deal with the hallucinations I kept seeing of Clowns. I learned how to try and manage my stress, and my therapist helped me learn a few coping skills to make getting through the day easier. I took up gardening as a form of therapy at his suggestion and started growing a few vegetables and cool looking plants. My mother put me on an exercise routine to help keep me focused and because she became terrified after she found out that people diagnosed with schizophrenia tend to have far lower life expectancies than everyone else.

Eventually, despite my best attempts to postpone it, my therapist finally started to work on using exposure therapy to help me get over my fear of Clowns. Exposure therapy is practicing with what you’re afraid of, so you become less afraid. You train your brain to stop sending the fear signal when there isn’t any danger.

He first showed me pictures of Clowns and we talked through my feelings. He told me about the history of Clowns and how they used to be the ultimate example of children’s entertainment. I learned a bit about the history of Clowning and why people are usually afraid of Clowns because of their unnatural movements and bodies. Then eventually we would work our way up to videos, small toys, and very gradually learn to force me to change my thoughts about Clowns. That way I would stop being afraid. That was the theory anyway.

The problem was that, despite his very sincere best efforts, the therapy just didn’t work. Which seemed to surprise him as apparently exposure therapy has an amazing success rate. The issue was that even if I knew consciously that Clowns are not something to be afraid of, my body still responded to it unconsciously and the things were just fucking everywhere. I didn’t think it was possible at the time, but somehow things even got worse after I started exposure therapy. It was almost as if the Clowns took personal offense at me for trying to get over my fear.

The Clowns started to show up in every mirror and reflective surface doing things that are better left unsaid. To give you an idea, in therapy I tried to watch an old recording of Bozo making children laugh but I ended up fainting after Bozo ripped the face off of a little boy wearing a birthday crown.

Things came to a head for my mother after I nearly drowned at the pool. There had been this strangely familiar Clown wearing all yellow that had grinned up at me from the bottom of the pool and I hallucinated him grabbing me. The lifeguard had to get stitches after I bit him thinking the Clowns had come to finally kill me. My therapist later told my mother that I had admitted to him that a part of me was almost disappointed that I didn’t drown.

My mother got really desperate and scared after that. She took me to all kinds of experts and weirdoes from exorcists to herbal healers that had me eat crap like bear livers or used crystals to rearrange my chakra. Of course, none of that shit worked, but mom kept trying everything under the sun until my therapist finally convinced her that helping me get over my fear would make things better. After that, she became determined to help me get over my fear. 

I don’t know where she got the money for it, but we started going on plane rides to follow the Circus and she took me to an actual Clown college to learn about Clowning itself. She forced me to meet several of the Clowns there before and after they put their makeup on. It freaked the hell out of me at the time, but mom even started dressing up as one of them and giving me hugs to try and slowly stop associating Clowns with fear.

It did help somewhat and I did get a little better. But progress seemed so slow and I kept seeing Clowns no matter what I took or what she did. The fear still wouldn’t go away and I thought things would never get better after my therapist started talking about hospitalization because I wasn’t eating anything and couldn’t sleep. 

That is when a certain red-nosed pirate showed up in my life.

There are these moments in a person’s life that my mother liked to call moments of destiny. Something small and seemingly insignificant that happens to you, that unbeknownst to you will change the course of your life forever. You just don’t know it yet. Its things like the moment you see your future spouse for the first time or a future musician hearing that one song that made them interested in music.

Funnily enough, my moment of destiny happened in a dentist’s office the day I got my wisdom teeth pulled out. I remember fidgeting in my chair in a waiting room next to my mother. She was reading some health magazines to research new stuff for me to try while I was busy trying not to freak the fuck out because I wasn’t on my medication. I hadn’t taken any of my meds that day because it could interfere with what the dentist was going to give me.

As much as I hated the meds, things could get crazy when I wasn’t on them. Which is truly saying something for me let me tell you. To this day the sight of a puppy makes me want to puke my guts out. So I was a tad bit on edge waiting for something to happen. Desperate to distract myself, I went over to the magazine rack to find something to read. There were only a few old issues of magazines, a badly worn out book of puzzles with all the answers filled in, and a weird comic book with a missing cover.

Curious since I had never heard of One Piece at the time, I opened up to a random page and low and behold I opened it to the page of Luffy kicking Buggy right in his crotch. Time seemed to slow down and as Goda as my witness, I swear I could hear him screaming in pain. But to my eternal shock and wonder, I wasn’t afraid.

Curious I read the whole book at arm's length worried about Buggy suddenly screaming or jumping at me but instead I found myself laughing as I read about Buggy. I read the whole thing again while high on painkillers and Mom would tell me later that she had never seen me so calm that night. When I told mom why she thought I was lying to make her feel better and I couldn’t even blame her. I almost didn’t believe it. It just didn’t seem possible that there was a Clown I didn’t find scary.

My mother bought me every volume of One Piece available the next day and I was caught up to the whole story in two days. Then I reread everything that showed Buggy and I can remember how much I laughed my ass off reading about what happened to him after Luffy kicked his ass.

How can you not find the flashy bastard hilarious? Buggy was an overconfident buffoon that wore his emotions on his sleeves, and he only survived in a very dangerous world by sheer dumb luck. Even when he was trying to be scary or menacing, I just found him funny. And something just clicked in my head after I realized that I liked Buggy the Clown.

I would be walking down the street and see a Clown like normal in the glass looking menacing, but now I would see Buggy behind it yelling and complaining that the flashy bastard was stealing his shtick. At McDonald's whenever Ronald started to smile just a little too big, he would show up to complain and bitch about his burger, whine that the drinks didn’t have enough syrup, and scream at the top of his lungs he didn’t get as many fries like everyone else.

Even during my nightmares when I would see Clowns killing and far worse, Buggy would be right next to them flicking them off or picking his nose and then the fear just went away as Buggy would whine and curse that he alone was worthy of being called the Clown. Every other Clown was just a wannabe trying to imitate his greatness and just by being his same ridiculous self, Clowns finally, _finally,_ stopped being scary. My mother cried when my therapist told her that he thought he didn’t need to see me anymore except for occasional check-ups.

Life didn’t suddenly turn easy or nice after that of course. Being constantly alert, constantly on guard, constantly afraid and bombarded with horrific imagery for so long leaves wounds that don’t ever fully heal. I still have a rather bad case of insomnia, I still have trouble remembering to eat or take care of myself, and I am more than a little paranoid about safety.

I also still see Clowns everywhere though not nearly as much as I used to. That is never going to go completely away but I liked seeing them now. They had stopped being a symbol of fear and instead became my symbol of hope and triumph. Every Clown I saw that I didn’t fear was proof that I could take whatever shitty thing life threw my way and still keep standing.

Thanks to that as well as the right medication, I’m pretty much okay now in my daily life. I am also thankful to say I am still not afraid of Clowns. I’ve actually been a bit fascinated with Clowns ever since I got over my fear.

I followed Batman’s example of dressing up as an old fear. One year for Halloween I was the Joker and another time I wore a white suit and a clown mask I made myself from Tokyo Ghoul, and I went as Captain Buggy more than once. I collected a Harlequin army for Warhammer, have a few Clown sculptures, and even scored a rare movie poster of Timmy Curry as Pennywise.

Of course, I’ll always and forever be a big fan of Buggy. I have all his figures and merchandise and I never go anywhere without my Chibi Buggy key chain. A real life-size version of Buggy’s pirate flag hangs in a prominent place on my wall and his Jolly Roger is proudly tattooed on my bicep.

Time as ever went on and despite my best efforts to delay it; I eventually did finally grow up. My fascination with Clowns ended up leading to a love of comedy and theater. I was an okay actor, nothing to write home about, but I got pretty good as a stagehand building sets and costumes in high school and college. I’ve always been good with my hands and knowing how to sew is much more useful than most people realize. For a little while, things were pretty good.

But life will, of course, do what it does best.

First Oda died in a horrific swimming accident, which was just a terrible fucking tragedy. One Piece fans all over the world mourned and just wailed at the sheer unfairness of it all. We would never know what One Piece was and I never did get to see what happened to Buggy after the time skip.

Then even worse, my mother suddenly got sick. I wasn’t too worried since she had a good prognosis but then the Bastard got let out of prison early for some inane reason. I refused to see him and spit on him when he surprised me before walking away to make my feelings obvious. But he came to see my mother a lot until the hospital barred him from entry as it was making my mother upset. I never knew what exactly he talked about with her as she refused to tell me. All I know is that she could only sleep when I was still in the room with her. She died not too long after that and I decided to murder the Bastard.

I took my time and made sure to be careful about it. I would be a suspect if he died and despite how old the Bastard was he was still a former soldier who kept himself in good shape. He looks damn near identical to Garp to give you an idea of how big and muscular he was.

But he wasn’t as paranoid or careful as I was and it was pathetically easy to break in, hide a few cameras, replace his whiskey, and eventually kidnap him. I came very close to taking my time with him but in the end, I just didn’t see the point of needlessly torturing him or asking him about why he did what he did. I truly didn’t care anymore, so I simply drowned him in the bathtub while he was still unconscious. Though I will admit to feeling a bit of warmth in my heart at seeing his face unmoving underwater. 

Before we continue, I want to make it clear that I am not a psycho killer even if I am very far from normal. I have murdered four people but it wasn’t because I went looking for victims. I don’t have an urge to kill or torture people or anything like that. It’s just that I don’t have any issues with murdering or hurting people aside knowing it’s not something I should do lightly.

I mean I think everyone agrees we should only really punish people who cross certain lines like people who abuse or kill children and we should err on the side of caution so we don’t execute innocent people. I’m fine with that. But I’ve never understood why everyone is so against killing people once we have definitive proof of their guilt and there is a definite chance they’ll hurt another kid in the future. So whenever I find one, I just make them disappear if I think I can get away with it. I don’t enjoy it, have some creepy ritual about it, collect something off of people or torture them. I just do the deed and hide the body.

Anyway, after I finished burying both of my parents, I found myself at an impasse in my life. I had given up on majoring in chemistry after finding it too boring and I still had another two years until my degrees in business and theatre were done. The issue was that I didn’t have the money for school after using everything my mother and I had to pay for her medical bills. Those disgusting, rich, and flashy fuckers in charge never raise wages high enough for people to survive and tuition went up every year I was at school. I was extremely reluctant to go into even more debt to pay everything off after seeing how it crushed my peers.

I was a pretty good dancer and I loved working in the theater but neither of those was going to pay the bills I needed to keep going to school. I didn’t want the risks associated with making good money as a criminal and I was nowhere near good looking enough to be a stripper or gigolo, which left easy money routes out. I had no idea what I was going to do.

But then the funniest and most ironic damn thing ever happened.

Even so many years later, I can remember it as if it was yesterday. It was a Thursday night, and there was a nasty storm that day. The wind was howling and it was raining so hard we were in a flash flood warning with classes canceled for the next two days. The house payment was late, my garden was dying from neglect, and I had forced myself to eat something since I was starting to get too skinny again.

I started to drink heavily, a big no-no for someone with my condition, and I was feeling more than a little sorry for myself after going to see mom at the cemetery again. I spent the night thinking and was more than a little drunk when there was a mighty clap of thunder and the power went out. I got up to find my phone and swore like a sailor when a piece of tree smashed the window. The glass cut my face and I was so startled that I fell back into my shelf and knocked it over.

It was there as I slowly stood up getting soaked with rain and the wind that there was another flash of lightning and I found myself in front of my little Buggy shrine. My old hat and wig from an old Halloween costume had been swept forward to land at the feet of my Buggy pirate flag with my reflection shining in the glass case in front of it. It was right then that I got an incredibly stupid and crazy idea to solve my money issues.

I was going to become a professional Clown.

I realized I had all the skills I needed to be a Clown, and a costume wouldn’t take me too long to make. Some makeup, a week to work on a good routine, maybe a few days to look up and practice how to make balloon animals again, pump air into my unicycle and I would be ready to go.

You might laugh at the idea of a professional Clown but think about it from a parent’s perspective at a birthday party. Taking care of one kid is exhausting; now imagine two dozen of the little monsters running around high on candy and sugar. Not to mention you have to worry about the cake, opening the presents, singing that copyrighted song and making sure nothing gets broken. You have zero time to mingle, talk with other parents, or relax and you are just desperately wishing for a drink.

That is where I come in.

I wasn’t a flashy hipster who only had on a little face paint and jeans as a costume. No, no, I was an actual Goda damn professional. My costume was well made, with pointed floppy shoes, an oversized pirate hat modeled after you know who that blew bubbles, bright face paint, and a giant red nose that had a squeaker inside.

I’d make my entrance with a small firecracker and colored smoke bomb and come in juggling on a unicycle with a fun little theme tune playing from a small radio on my back. I would ride in a big circle around the backyard until I came back to my trunk, caught my balls, and did the fire-breathing trick I had learned from one of my theater friends.

Once the kids were well and truly excited, I told the parents to take a break and leave it to me. Daffy Dave was in the house and I did a damn fine job if I do say so myself.

I did simple magic or card tricks and taught kids how to do them so they could show off with their friends. I was a master balloon and face painting artist that laughed at any challenge. I had a physical comedy routine modeled after the greats that I had practiced and shined until I could get the most scared of children laughing, and I made a mean puppet show with cartoon voices. I had fun games, weird bubble-making equipment, and props ready to go for even the rowdiest little ankle biter.

For those kids that were scared of me, I made sure to put on a special show. I’d ask their parents to let me meet them later and let them watch as I wiped off my makeup. I played games and taught them what Clowning was all about. I might not be afraid of Clowns anymore but I remember the feeling of fear very well. I wanted as many children as possible to not have to go through what I did.

I was pleasantly surprised at how much fun I ended up having as a Clown. The perks were also pretty great. All the cake I could eat, great pay for only a few hours work, being my own boss, and I started making a killing once word got around about how good I was. You would also be amazed at just how many women have a weird thing for Clowns. I’ve never been that interested in sex and I want to make sure my genes die with me but I have to admit I did have some occasional fun.

I hadn’t gone in planning to do it for very long but even after I got my degrees I kept at it. I was going to save up and open up a costume and clothing business aimed squarely at cosplayers and theaters, and maybe try being a playwright someday. At least that is what I told myself at first.

As the years went on, I found it harder and harder to give it up. I loved the freedom and the fun of being a Clown and a performer. Making people laugh, constantly going to parties, and earning money doing both. I could forget the difficulties of my life, forget the stress and the occasional voice in my head, forget how awful and unfair the world was, forget how alone I was, and just laugh again. Even though I am now officially older than Buggy, I still love being a Clown and I had Captain Buggy to thank.

Perhaps that is why I ended up here in this world.

Of course, it is also entirely possible that I have finally snapped completely and this all just a giant hallucination. When in reality I’m in a straight jacket in an insane asylum somewhere after finally getting caught. Granted it doesn’t feel like one. Goda knows I am familiar with hallucinations. But none of them have ever lasted this long and been so engrossing. It certainly feels real and I haven’t heard a voice or seen any sign of what brought me here. Not that I particularly care. I have nothing left waiting for me in my world and this world is just so grotesquely bizarre and funny.

So, I guess I better start at the beginning. The crew had only been together for roughly a month when I arrived and after a few safe but boring raids I eventually realized that there was no going back and that this was for real. I directed our efforts elsewhere until I had finally collected everything I needed to get started on my new plan.

But before I get to the meat of this story, I should warn you that I do die at the end of this tale. I don’t know for sure if this world truly runs on narrative tropes as there are some very evident differences from what I remember reading but if it does I can easily admit to being a monster even if I don’t quite fit the definition of a true villain in the classic shonen tradition. On the one hand, I am going to kill quite a few people in some pretty nasty ways but on the other hand, they all more than deserved what I did to them and anyone that tells me different is a fucking liar. But yeah a “hero” ends up killing me. 

But while I do die, I still had quite a few laughs along the way. So without further adieu, let's get this show on the road. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally the prologue and I wasn't sure if I should include it or not. It gives a glimpse of the SI before he came to the One Piece world.


End file.
